


The Sleeping Kingdom

by SierraBlanca



Series: The Lone Knight and the Sleeping Beast [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Anal Sex, Corporal Punishment, Curse Breaking, Dehumanization, Humiliation, Interspecies Sex, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Kings & Queens, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Spanking, Political Alliances, Power Imbalance, Sexual Slavery, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraBlanca/pseuds/SierraBlanca
Summary: Anthony had known all his young life the story of Loki Laufeyson, the jotun prince cursed to sleep for a hundred years in his Winter Castle. He did not believe it, however, until he saw the fortress with his own eyes. Even the bodies of those other Lords who’d been caught in the storm, silently covering the lonesome lands before him, had not been enough to make him believe. He had to see for himself what was inside the ancient structure; know, once and for all, if the legends were true.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who lost her ticket to heaven after writting this? :s Idk, I'd never written anything like this before (I'm actually surprised I did it) and I was very skeptic about posting it. But, well, a friend of mine liked it and she basically talked me into doing it. I have a few chapters complete already (the second is already up) so I'll probably be posting them soon too, if I get good feedback. Hope you enjoy the reading. Oh, and have in count, this is /not/ for the faint harted. If you are sensible or just not into non-consensual stories, you really shouldn't read this.

Anthony had known all his young life the story of Loki Laufeyson, the jotun prince cursed to sleep for a hundred years in his Winter Castle. He did not believe it, however, until he saw the fortress with his own eyes. Even the bodies of those other Lords who’d been caught in the storm, silently covering the lonesome lands before him, had not been enough to make him believe. He had to see for himself what was inside the ancient structure; know, once and for all, if the legends were true.

Careless with grief for the death of his father, he had ventured into that cursed Kingdom without fear; hoping to find fantastic sights, grandiose battles and the occasional souvenir. He had come too far in his search for glory, and honor compelled him to keep moving forward. Without delay, he cut at their roots the terrible vines that covered the yard, preventing them from entangling him, and entered the gardens of the Winter Castle.

He made his way through the bones of those who had failed to surmount the untamed Realm, and stepped into the great banquet hall. All along the table, he saw the men and women of the Old Court, sleeping under layers of snow; their ruddy and slack faces spun over with spider webs. They were all Jotnar; tall savages of a blue coloration that inspired more fear than reverence. He stared with surprise at the servants dozing against the walls; their clothing rotted to tatters.

It seemed to be true, this old tale. He had almost expected to find nothing, once he’d made it inside. Fearless, he went in search of the jotun of legend; guessing that he would be somewhere along the core of the Castle. In the topmost bedchamber of a tower, he found him. Anthony had stepped over sleeping chambermaids and valets, and, breathing the dust and damp of the place, he finally stood in the door of Loki Laufeyson’s resting place.

His dark hair lay long and curly over the deep green velvet of his bed, and his rough armor revealed the strong, firm body of a young man. His horns, characteristic of his species, were sturdy and virile; his thin, blue face was graced by white engravings. Anthony opened the shuttered windows, and the moonlight flooded down on the sleeping prince. He was small. Not a giant, like the rest of his household, but rather a runt. Despite being clean-limbed, there was something in the creature’s body that looked undoubtedly weak, when compared to his peers. 

Anthony arched an eyebrow as he touched his cheek, cold as ice; he looked at his white teeth through parted lips, and then his tender rounded eyelids. He drew out his sword, with which he had cut back all the vines outside, and gently pressed it against the Jotnar’s throat. Briefly, he wondered if he should kill the creature. Jotuns were cruel, vicious animals, and surely, nothing good would come out of their Kingdom coming alive again. The curse had been casted for a reason.

He moved the sword a little higher, and with the blade turned the prince’s head to one side; as if to look better. He flinched in his sleep, and his mouth opened a little bit wider. Anthony caught the sight of two sharp fangs, and a tongue red as blood.

Mesmerized, he put the sword to one side. Carefully, he removed the heavy armor, and left the Jotnar in thin leather garments. Then he lifted him slightly, his left arm under his broad shoulders, his right hand cupping his face; his thumb on top of his lips. What to do? The creature made no sound. His head fell towards Anthony, and the young lord felt something wretched tugging at his chest. He felt scared. Perhaps vile. As if he were doing something that was against the laws of the world.

His desire had been hard and almost painful to him when he had come into the room, and now it was urging him almost mercilessly. Without thinking, he kissed the dark blue lips, drawing the life out of himself and into the Jotnar, and felt a foreign coldness spreading through his heart. Then, the haunting red eyes opened.

Almost instinctively, Anthony backed away. He walked backwards; careful not to trip down the marble stairs that lead to the bed. For the first time, something about him seemed nervous. Slowly, the Jotnar sat up right on the bed. His face only showed confusion. Perhaps, something akin to fear. Staring up at the young lord with unblinking eyes, he looked like a wild animal that had been suddenly woken. Anthony struggled to find his voice.

“I’ve awaken you, Loki Laufeyson.” He said to him, loud and firm. “For a hundred years you’ve slept and so has all your Kingdom. If you listen you’ll hear your frozen Castle come alive.”

Suddenly, a shriek came from the passage outside. The Lord turned around and saw a serving girl standing by the door of the bedchamber, covering her mouth with her hands. It seemed that the horrid state of the Castle had scared her. Anthony walked towards to her, and as he addressed her any trace of doubt disappeared from his voice. “Go to your master, King Laufey. Tell him that Lord Stark has come to remove the curse on his household, and that he would arrive to his chambers soon.” He proclaimed, and with nothing more to say he shut the door, bolting it, and turned to look at the Jotnar Prince.

His curly long hair, heavy and full of a great silky density, flared down to the bed around him. He was looking at his direction, silent as a grave. It struck Anthony that his eyes were devoid of anger or fear. He was like an animal in the woods, just before he slew them in the hung; eyes wide, expressionless.

The Prince’s chest heaved with anxious breath when he came closer. He was, once again, wielding a sword. The Lord stood before the creature, and lifted a lock of his long dark hair from his shoulder; curling it around his finger. Loki looked up at him steadily; his cheeks flushed with a raw dark blush, and roughly taking him by the neck, Anthony kissed him again. He was being filled by an odd, obscure sensation; a pleasure that usually sized him whenever he managed to slay dreadful beasts.

There were knocks at the door, shouts. Anthony didn’t bother to answer them.

“I saved you and your Realm.” He said. “You own me your life, and in exchange, I ask only for your services. I’m your Lord, and from now on you are bound to obey me.” He took hold of one of the creature’s curls again, and took delight in seeing how he trembled at the proximity of his sword. Gently, he pressed the blade against his side, threatening to spill blood. Loki closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asked.

“Yes, My Lord.” The creature answered, stoic.

“That’s good, very good.” Anthony nodded approvingly, putting his sword back in its sheath again. When touching the leather, the iron made an awful, shrilling sound.  

 

* * *

 

When he opened the door, the hallway was almost dark. He told the servants he would have his supper now, and that he would be taking it in the King’s bedchambers. He ordered the Prince to dine with him, and to remain at his side unless told otherwise. When they made it out of the bedchamber, he took his slim wrists between his hands and held them behind his back; just to make sure he didn’t run off. His hold was hard enough to leave bruises. Perhaps, the Jotnar would have tried to escape either way, if it weren’t because he had been stripped off his armor, and Anthony still carried his sword with him.

The table at Laufey’s chambers was not very wide, and he could easily reach out to touch the creature’s hair and horns, if he liked. The dinner they were served was decent enough; roast pork and fowl, and fruit in big glistening silver bowls. The King himself was kneeling before them, dressed in his heavy ceremonial robes, a gold crown atop his head as he bowed to the Lord and waited for a permission to sit down. Even at a distance, Anthony could hear him grinding his teeth.

"Your Kingdom has been neglected for a hundred years," He said, as he lifted his wine goblet. “Your vassals have fled to other lords; good land lies fallow. But you have your wealth, your Old Court, your soldiers. So much lies ahead of you, if you choose to cooperate.”

"I am in your debt, My Lord," The King answered with a rough voice. "Anything you ask of me, I will give it to you.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. You must know already what I want?” He asked, a cruel smile coming to his face. The King pressed his lips together in mortification, but nodded all the same. How Anthony was surrounding his son’s neck, and the vicious way he played with his horns, clothes and hair, left no questions to be asked.

“I will take your son as a courtier. He will serve me now.” He took out his long silver knife and, cutting the hot, succulent pork, he laid several pieces on his own plate. The servants around the table fought with one another to place dishes near him. They were all tall and disgusting, like Laufey. None of them had the grace that he had seen in the young prince. He had found himself a rather nice souvenir. Excited, Anthony turned to look at him, and found the Jotnar staring at the floor; hands fisting at his sides and eyes clouded by anger. Perhaps, also by shame.

“As you wish.” The King said, voice low but unwavering. If he was feeling heart sick, he was well talented in not showing it. “I am in your debt.”

"You take your life and your Kingdom." Anthony told him. "And I take only your son. You ought to be thankful, My King. The price might have been much more higher.” With that, he drank the rest of his wine and put the goblet down. The sound of it hitting the wood table made the prince jump in his seat, ever so slightly. “You may go. I’ll have your room tonight, for I find it spacious and comfortable. You can rest wherever you want. Tell your servants to have my horse ready in the morning.” He casted Loki a last glance and smiled, not caring that the look he sent at him was, at best, resentful. “We would be leaving tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Once the King retired along with the servants, Anthony took a seat in the vast royal bed, and grabbing Loki by the arm, forced him to sit at his side. The Jotnar was, once again, looking down; covering his face and part of his body with his long dark hair. He was fisting his hands so hard that the knuckles were turning white. Anthony found that his anger pleased him. He was experimenting a lot of strange, dark emotions that he had never had before, and he was mesmerized by them.

“Kiss me.” He said, taking Loki by his chin and forcing him to look at him. His voice came out raspy and low, frightening, but the Jotnar meet his gaze without fear. Anthony knew that if he wanted to, this graceful animal could tear him apart.

A runt or not, he was a jotun, and he was bound to have the strength of at least ten grown men. He was also bound by nature to honor his debts, no matter the cost. For a Jotnar, breaking an agreement was a spiritual slight, and for that alone Loki would not refuse him, and he would not fight back. That was the beauty of it; knowing that he could but wouldn’t. Knowing that he had managed, with words alone, to submit the must frightful of creatures. He felt drunk just by thinking about it.

The Jotnar obeyed, and Anthony felt his warm mouth on him again, making his desire rise. Something excited him about the idea of taking the son in the father’s bed; a pleasure so wicked that Anthony wondered whether it’ll make him feel ashamed of himself when the morning came. He would have to take the risk. Breaking the contact, he looked deep into the Jotnar’s red eyes; not minding the thin trail of saliva that still united their mouths.

“Now, don’t be frightened.” He said lowly, touching his lower lip with his thumb and then softly patting his cheek, as one does with a tired horse. “It could have been worse. I could be old and ugly.”

“I wish you were.” Loki responded, managing to sound angry and yet calm at the same time. “If you were a lonesome old man, I could feel sorry for you.”

Anthony didn’t hesitate in striking him when he heard that. It wasn’t a slap, or even a light blow, as was his costume whenever one of his courtesans disrespected him; but a hard punch across the face. Stunned, the Jotnar covered his nose with a clawed hand. His eyes showed surprise; as if he hadn’t expected to be mistreated. He wouldn’t have been if he had behaved, Anthony thought, but he guessed that was something the creature would learn with time.

It had been a hard punch, indeed. When the prince retired his hand a thin trail of blood ran down his face, staining the sheets. He seemed angry and confused at the same time, and for some reason, Anthony found the combination of both emotions endearing. He took a handkerchief out of his clothes and carefully, almost lovingly, put it under the prince’s nose to wipe off the blood. “It is in your best interest not to anger me.” He told him. “Be good for me and you’ll safe yourself some pain.”

Staring up at him steadily, the Jotnar nodded. His eyes were glistening, but he wouldn’t cry. It seemed that Anthony had found himself a rather prideful courtier. "I won't punish you very much," He promised, lifting Loki’s chin with two fingers. "It was just a little offense, and your first after all. But remember; next time, I won’t be as condescending.” With that, he gave a quick kiss to the creature’s parched lips, and removed his dark long coat. He tossed it over a chair and stood up to bolt the door. Then he snuffed all but a few candles.

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he pulled Loki’s wrists into his left hand and forced him onto the floor; making him kneel before him. It must have been such an offense for him, kneeling before a foreigh Lord when he carried royal blood in his veins; but he did it all the same. “Aren’t you a lovely pet?” Anthony spoke, bending over him; his right hand moving languidly over his rounded buttocks, squeezing lightly. His skin was cold, and he could feel his horns pinching into his low stomach.

The Jotnar was crying now, muffling the sounds into Anthony’s lap; his back trembling ever so slightly. With his free hand the young lord spanked his buttocks, and heard the cries grow louder. It wasn’t even much of a slap, but it left a mark on the creature’s skin; a small, lovely white mark. He spanked him again, and felt his arms moving wildly beneath him; as if trying to get free. His hold on the Jotnar’s wrists tightened, and again he spanked him. “You’re not crying because of the pain, are you?” He asked, delighted. “It’s the humiliation what makes you cry.”

He continued with the wicked game for a while, enjoying the effects such harmless blows had on the creature. Shortly after, however, the cries began to grow more and more quiet, and just when he was really starting to enjoy himself, they stopped completely. Confused, he spanked Loki a few more times, harder and faster; but the Jotnar remained silent. His attempts to get free had ceased as well. Feeling rather pleased, the young lord let go of his wrists and roughly took him by one horn; forcing him to look up. Loki’s tear-stained face was unspeakably beautiful; his blue lips trembling, his red eyes gleaming with the dampness left by his crying. And yet there was something defiant about him. A certain fire that refused to die away.

“You’re such an interesting creature…” Anthony said, licking his lips. He looked at his new acquirement up and down, as if he could defile him with his eyes alone, and smiled. “Toss your hair back.” He commanded, and only with a little hesitation the prince obeyed. “Put your hands above my knees… Come on, don’t be afraid. That’s it. Very good… Now, I want you to look at me.”

Loki did as he was told, looking miserable. He seemed to feel his nakedness more fully now that he had to meet his torturer’s gaze. His lashes were matted and dark, and his round red eyes looked larger than before. Anthony reached out, and massaged his right nipple lightly. Slowly, he began to draw concentric circles around it; seeing how the tip started to harden. Loki signed, and slowly his muscles began to relax. He seemed calmer now. Anthony stroked his firm underarms, caressing the curves of the muscle with awe; he was certainly a strong specimen, despite his size. He drew him a little closer so that he creature’s sex was against his calf, and slowly started rubbing against it.

“Would you really like it if I were older?” He whispered, seeing the prince shudder at the unexpected attention.

“It occurred to me…” Loki started, in a rather low voice. “…that it would be easier. Been commanded by one so very young makes me realize how weak I truly am.” Tears were swelling out of his eyes, so Anthony pulled one of his horns to see them better. They were clear and watery, not unlike his own. At some point, while they ran down Loki’s face, they would freeze and turn into shimmering frost. It was a beautiful sight.

“Forget about weakness.” Anthony said, passing a thumb over the thin blue lips before him. For a moment, he wondered how the hard little cock against his calf could feel so hot, even through layers of cloth and leather. “I awakened you from a century’s sleep and restored you father’s Kingdom. You are mine now. Be good for me, and I will be yours as well.”

Loki nodded slowly, seeming doubtful. Pleased, Anthony lowered his hand and quickly grabbed the Jotnar’s hot little cock; partly stroking it, partly squeezing it. The creature let out a low gasp before he could stop himself, and he was left to wonder if such pretty sound had been caused by pleasure or rather by pain. “I want more of you than what I’ve hand before. Do you know what I mean?”

The creature nodded, hands fisting over Anthony’s knees and eyes glued to the floor. For the shortest of moments, he seemed truly scared. The Lord let him go quickly after, and ordered him to stand before the bed and put his hands over the mattress; bending over it. The candles threw a warm, almost purple light over him. His long black hair fell down over the edge of the bed, partly covering his body. Trembling with excitement, Anthony parted his legs.

He could see the battle the Jotnar fought not to defend himself. His arms were trembling, and he could hear him grinding his teeth. Luckily, he wouldn’t need any more punishments to understand where his place was. He stroked his thighs, and then used one hand to force his buttocks apart. Before him, the Jotnar gave a terrible shudder. With his left hand, Anthony covered his mouth, and behind it he could feel him cry softly. Eventually, he would learn to keep it quiet by himself; but for now, muffling the sounds would have to serve.

With two of his fingers, he found that tiny nude of flesh between his legs and started to work on it in and out. Loki cringed with pain, but refused to move a single muscle in protest. That pleased him, so once in a while Anthony would stop his work and would take some time to play with the Jotnar’s pretty blue cock; making him raise his hips and arch his back in spite of himself. His flushed face under his hand was the picture of distress.

Then, Anthony opened his clothing and took out his hard, eager cock, letting it rest against a trembling thigh while he continued to stroke Loki. The creature was twisting from one side to the other, his hands gathering up the soft sheets at his sides into knots. His whole body had grown into a darker shade of blue, and Anthony had a hard time deciding whether it was because of the exercise, or because of the embarrassment he felt. He couldn’t resist, so even though he had done nothing to deserve it, he spanked the little creature once again. He cried beneath his hand rather loudly, but didn’t protest.

Playfully, Anthony bended over to circle his waist and slowly licked the back of his neck. He felt the whole body under him tremble with excitement, and was quite pleased with himself when unrestrained moans of pleasure began to come out of the Jotnar’s mouth. Loki arched his back again, and as he finally drove his organ into him, Anthony felt him shudder violently beneath him. An awful cry was muffled by the hand over his mouth, and once again tears began to spill out of his large red eyes.

He rode the creature without guilt; finding a rare satisfaction in the warm, fleshy cave that he had found between his legs. He felt engulfed by the heat of the moment, and since he didn’t care all that much about his crying, he uncovered Loki’s mouth and used his now free hand to squeeze his rounded hips. His other hand was across his chest, trying to keep him in balance as he wildly pounded into him. The Jotnar’s cries of pain and pleasure were flooding the room, getting him harder and harder by the second; making him loose his mind.

He bit Loki’s neck, rather cruelly, and finally, after a few more thrusts, he found himself spilling his seed inside him. Everything around him felt tight, sticky and warm, and for a few seconds Anthony just stayed there; enjoying the soft contractions around his cock. Then, feeling overwhelmed, he pulled out and let the creature fall into the bed.

For quite some time he saw him lay on his stomach; still, moist and with his eyes closed; breathing deeply as he tried to recover himself. He wasn’t crying anymore. His legs were trembling slightly and he was covering his head with both of his arms; as if trying to hide. His back moved up and down at the rhythm of his breathing; more and more slowly as time passed by. Anthony lay down on the mattress as well, looking up at the ceiling.

“That was lovely.” He said, feeling numb after his orgasm. “Open your eyes.” He asked, turning to look at Loki. The creature did it slowly; timidly. Anthony passed the back of two fingers down his back, and saw him struggle not to back away. “We’re done. Don’t be afraid.” He said, almost tenderly. “You could not even imagine these things happening to you when you first fell asleep, could you? Perhaps you think you’re dreaming. One of those strange, lurid dreams you had in your hundred years. But you’re wrong. This is real.”

The two fingers became an entire hand caressing his back; as in some sort of consolation. But there was no sympathy in Anthony’s eyes. No remorse. Only expectation. “You’re shaking. You seem embarrassed _._ As if you’ve done something wrong. Is it because you let someone hurt you? Or because you enjoyed being hurt?” The Lord’s voice was low; unwavering. He didn’t seem to realize how much pain his words were causing. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

 _“I didn’t._ ” The Jotnar hurried to say, looking suddenly very tense. His voice came out quick and raspy; like the hissing of an old mountain cat.

“Think whatever you want.” Antony answered, looking down at the white substance staining Loki’s thighs, and at the limp little cock that hung between them. He stared deep into the creature’s eyes again, and smiled with pleasure. “Kiss me again.” He commanded, and instantly saw how the prince’s entire posture changed. Somehow, his face seemed to grow pale. “And I mean, _really_ kiss me.”

Loki lowered his eyes, and subtly hid his face between the sheets. “No.” He said, his voice lower than ever.

“No?”

“No.”

“You know you can’t deny me.” Anthony said, moving closer to him. He grabbed him by the back of the neck, where he had left a nasty bite mark, and forced the Jotnar to look at him. “I thought we agreed you were going to be good? You don’t want to make me angry again, do you?” He saw more than felt the body before him tremble, and felt a dark spark of pleasure run through him.

“ _Please_ , don’t make me.” Loki answered, slightly trying to pull away. Only Anthony’s hand behind his head was stopping him.

“Of course I’ll make you.” Not interested in hearing more, the young lord forced the Jotnar’s head still, and even feeling the two clawed hands weakly pushing against his chest, trying to convince him to back away, he gave the creature a quick peck on the lips. “See how easy it is?” He said. “Now it’s your turn.”

Seeing the pain in Loki’s eyes, but convinced he’ll obey eventually, Anthony backed away and lay down on the bed again. After a few moments of silence he raised one finger in the hair and curled it a couple of times in front of the Jotnar, prompting him to get closer. Conflicted, Loki started to crawl towards him.

He put each of his hands besides Anthony’s head, and swallowing his pride, he lowered his head and kissed him. A long, heated kiss, where solely his tongue moved to give his lord pleasure. Not a taken kiss, but one given. Tears were flowing his eyes, and when Anthony started to caress his buttocks again, slightly squeezing the tender flesh, he found he couldn’t stop them from spilling anymore.

“Hush now, my pet.” The Lord said, between long, lustful kisses. “It’ll be alright. It will all be alright…”


End file.
